That Rose Nonsense
by At Least I Didn't Fake It
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy wants to prove he's more than the son of a former Death Eater. Rose Granger-Weasley wants to make her parents glow with pride. Albus just wants to help everyone. Unfortunately, that may prove harder than each of them thought, especially when their friendship sours. Rose-centric. Eventual Scorose. (Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely related to Harry Potter).
1. Prologue

**CW/TW: the prologue chapter makes mention of injury and alludes slightly to self harm. the first few chapters of the story will not, but eventually this will explore depression, anxiety, isolation, mild bullying, and objectification. if any of this affects you negatively or triggers you, please do not read on. your safety is extremely important to me and to others in your life 3 **

* * *

**Prologue**

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, June 2022_

Harry Potter strode briskly down the halls of St. Mungo's, jaw tight, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His robes billowed behind him, askew and open so everyone could see the Holyhead Harpies shirt and faded jeans he sported underneath. His already untameable hair was even messier than usual, likely because he kept running a worried hand through it. He must have seemed particularly unapproachable that day because healers, patients, and nurses alike actually jumped out of his way, eyes wide in alarm, as he passed by them.

Harry burst through the next set of doors loudly, and a number of ginger heads looked up. There was his son, James, looking stricken and horrified, next to his sister, Lily, who was crying quite openly. Fred and Roxanne and their parents stood next to James and Lily, all of them uncharacteristically serious (Harry didn't think he'd seen George that serious since his first birthday without his twin). On the other side of the waiting room sat Albus and Scorpius, both white-faced, both stone-still, both shell-shocked, both silent. The two boys looked absolutely destroyed, and it broke Harry's heart to see his son have to deal with this fear. Teddy and Victoire, just back from their honeymoon, were sitting with Victoire's siblings, Dominique and Louis, all four of them holding hands tightly with Fleur Weasley. Her husband, Bill, was with Charlie, and Percy's wife and daughters—all of them were making an effort to comfort Molly Senior, who was weeping into Arthur's shoulder. Percy, who was by far the most calm of the brood at this point, was speaking in low tones with the Healer in charge.

Harry ignored all of them and made a beeline straight for the couple in the corner. There, a tall ginger man, seemingly frail beyond his years, clutched on to his wife's hand as if she were his lifeline. On his other side stood his sister, Harry's wife Ginny, who had a bracing grip on her older brother's shoulder. His blue eyes were wide and terrified as tears fell down his cheeks, and his face was twisted in so horrible an expression Harry almost thought he was back in the basement of Malfoy Manor with him, listening helplessly as Hermione screamed in pain above them.

For her part, Hermione looked about ready to faint. Her cocoa skin had paled quite dramatically, and she swayed worryingly until her son came up on her other side to steady her. Hugo had been crying, too, but he wound himself between his parents and gazed up at Harry with his father's blue eyes.

"Harry," Ron croaked. His voice cracked, and Harry surged forward to catch his best friend in a tight hug. Ron leaned his head on Harry's shoulder, and Harry could feel his shaky breaths against his shirt. Harry tightened his grip, reaching an arm out to pull Hermione into the embrace, too. With a cry, she fell into them, and for a moment Harry thought the three of them were eighteen again, two of them waking the other up from yet another nightmare of some trauma they had experienced together. If Harry closed his eyes, he could almost believe that's what this was—some sort of awful nightmare that would be over when he woke up.

"Rosie," Hermione whispered into their huddle, and like that, the spell was broken. They were not teenagers anymore. They were in their early forties with teenagers of their own, children who they'd sworn to love and protect their whole lives long.

"Do they know what happened?" Harry asked, voice catching at the mention of his niece.

"No," Ginny's voice came from behind Ron, and Harry realized his wife was still there, holding on to her brother so he had support. "It shouldn't be too long, now," she said, keeping her voice calm. Harry had always admired the way she could remain collected when it mattered most. "Percy's been talking to Healer Towler for a while."

"Is she going to be okay?" Hugo piped up, his voice small and scared.

"When they brought her in they said she'd make a full recovery," Hermione said. Her voice was trembling, but she managed to give her son a comforting smile. "Why don't you go sit with Lily and Uncle George?"

Hugo did as he was told, wiggling into a spot in between Lily and Fred and burrowing into their warmth. His two cousins wrapped their arms around him, providing him with some comfort. Ginny slipped away to approach Percy and Healer Towler, her brown eyes steely and determined as she entered the conversation. Harry watched them for a moment before turning back to Ron and Hermione.

"She's going to be okay," he told them gently. "You said it yourself. She gave us quite a scare, but she's going to be okay."

"She's going to recover," Ron corrected, his blue eyes wide and listless. "That doesn't mean she's going to be okay."

It was with those ominous words that the Golden Trio sat down in a corner and waited for some news.


	2. Chapter One: The Sorting

Rose Granger-Weasley just wants to make her parents glow with pride. Unfortunately, that may prove harder than she thought.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Sorting**

_Kings' Cross Station, September 2017_

_Rose_

_"So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."_

Eleven year old Rose Lavender Granger-Weasley was sure her father had only meant to praise her with his parting words at Kings Cross Station right before her first term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry started. He was beaming with pride, wrapping one arm around her Mum's waist and ruffling her brother's hair with the other. Hermione, too, was suspiciously misty-eyed as she gazed at her eldest child. Rose smiled blankly as her father continued speaking—something about her Granddad and pure-bloods—but she was really more focused on those seven pesky words he'd thrown carelessly some two minutes before.

_Thank God you inherited your mother's brains._

The problem was, Rose wasn't so sure she had.

There was an unspoken pressure on all children of the Longbottom-Potter-Weasley clan to live up to the legacy of their parents. None of the famed war heroes put that pressure on the children—at least, not wittingly or intentionally. But as they tried to raise their children like other Wizarding families did, telling stories around the table about their time at Hogwarts and the fun they had at school, they never realized their children felt as if they needed to prove themselves. It had been a gloomy James Sirius Potter who'd summed it up one afternoon some two years before, when the parents were downstairs at a Burrow reunion and the cousins (and Longbottoms) were sent to bed: "We've got to be just like them, and at the same time, be completely different. Be our own people, but be our parents all the same."

Nobody had a response to that, not even Roxanne or Dominique, who were the wittiest members of the new generation. They'd all felt it, of course, all known it to be true, but it was the first time any of them had said it out loud.

Rose had certainly felt James' bitter words strike a chord in her chest. She'd attended Muggle primary school with Al since she was small, and she'd always known that her parents expected her to get the best grades, to top the class, to constantly leave everyone in awe of her brains—_her mother's brains_—it was a lot for a little girl of six years to fully comprehend.

Oh, it wasn't as though Ron or Hermione had ever told her it was what they expected. Rose doubted they even knew she knew. It was in the small things, the way her dad's eyes clouded with brief disappointment when his eyes rolled over her grades, right when she knew he'd see the numbers he hadn't expected. His eyes would always clear instantly, and he'd smile at Rose and tell her he was proud of his smart girl, but Rose (despite what her grades said) wasn't stupid.

It only hurt worse when after every report home, her mum would come back from the office and gently prod Rose, voice carefully cheerful, asking if she wanted or needed any help with her schoolwork. Rose knew how it happened—her mother would Apparate to the house, and her father would send her and Hugo over to Uncle Harry's to play with James, Al, and Lily, while the two of them discussed her in low tones.

Her parents were never angry, and Rose was truly grateful for that, but they couldn't hide their disappointment, especially when over dinner one day, Uncle Harry had quite obliviously gone on and on about how well Al was doing in English.

So at the ripe old age of seven, Rose decided that she was going to make sure she was best in all her classes, no matter what. She locked herself in her room and studied and studied until the numbers swam across the page and the words ran together. Slowly, very slowly, her assessment scores got better. Her dad read through the reports and Rose burned with pleasure at the look of pride in his eyes. Her mum would come home and with a twinkle in her eye, would suggest that the family go to Diagon Alley for some ice cream.

Her parents, and indeed all her aunts and uncles and cousins, seemed to think it was natural. She was Hermione Granger's daughter, after all, and she must have inherited more than her mum's bushy hair and coffee colored skin and big brown eyes. In fact, the only one other than Rose who knew the truth was Albus Potter.

Now Al, Rose thought with envy, he really was smart. The information seemed to come to him naturally, and he'd hardly had to work at all to understand the material. He would gaze at her across the dinner table with kind, understanding eyes as her mum chattered about how _wonderfully_ Rose was doing in her Muggle maths class—he, of course, was there when Rose struggled to borrow the one in a simple subtraction problem in front of all their peers. Rather than feel threatened by him, however, Rose loved him dearly. It had, after all, been Al who stood up for her when that awful Roger Miller called her stupid at lunch.

So Rose started topping the class, but it had nothing to do with her mum's brains and everything to do with her utter determination to not let her parents down. It certainly didn't help that neither Ron nor Hermione questioned the amount of time Rose spent in her room struggling to understand even a fraction of what they'd learned in class that day—Hermione had always laughed fondly and said as a child, she, too, was always reading in her room, her thirst for knowledge never quenched.

Except Rose never worked for the pleasure of knowledge—she worked for the desire to make her parents proud. Everything she did was to impress her mum and dad.

That was why it was so imperative that she got into either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw at Hogwarts this year. Her father's joking words floated back to her: _If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you._ Never mind, then. Ravenclaw wasn't an option. Not that she believed her parents would really disown her over that—she just didn't want them to be disappointed.

"Rose, there you are!" Her thoughts (and her mum's ongoing goodbye) were interrupted by Albus, who raced towards her, grabbing her arm. He'd been pulled aside by his dad a little bit ago.

She murmured out a goodbye before Al was hauling her onto the train, pulling her into a compartment and opening the window so they were still looking at their parents. Around them, other students from other compartments and parents on the platform were glancing curiously over at her Uncle Harry.

"Why are they all staring?" Al demanded.

"Don't let it worry you," Rose's dad said, blue eyes glimmering with amusement as he glanced at his best friend, "It's me, I'm extremely famous."

Rose laughed along with the others, but she still felt that sharp pang of anxiety that came with any mention of her parents' heroics.

The train started moving, and Rose and Albus stared at each other, excited and nervous and terrified and joyful all at once.

* * *

In the Great Hall (which was simply magnificent, Rose thought, unable to stop fidgeting with nervous energy), the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Flitwick was reading the names of the first years to be, the Sorting already underway (Arden, Ella was a Ravenclaw, and her brother Ethan was a Hufflepuff). Rose stood close to Albus, brushing her shoulder against her cousin's. He gave her a bracing smile, as if they were still in Muggle primary school and he was silently telling her she'd get through this, too, just like that difficult reading passage where Rose had stumbled over half the words as the class snickered at her. On Albus's other side was the blond kid from the platform—Scorpius Malfoy, who Rose's dad told her to beat in class.

Rose risked a glance at the four tables. At Gryffindor, third years James and Roxanne sat with Roxanne's elder brother, fourth year Fred. As Rose watched, James leaned over to Victoire, who was a seventh year, and whispered something with a sly look on his face, to which she gave him a terrifying Grandma Weasley glare—probably about Teddy Lupin, then, Al had mentioned his brother caught them snogging earlier. Victoire turned away huffily and resumed her conversation with her friends, which included an amused Lucy Weasley, who, despite being in her fifth year, was close with Victoire. Rose looked over at James, who was smirking mischievously at someone at the Ravenclaw table. She followed his gaze to their cousin Dominique, who looked thrilled that someone was teasing her older sister in her stead. The strawberry blonde fifth year nudged sixth year Ravenclaw Molly Weasley, who rolled her eyes but smiled lightly at her cousins. At the Hufflepuff table sat Louis Weasley, two year younger than Dom, in his third year with James and Rox. He was chatting excitedly with Frankie Longbottom, who was in his year, and whose dad was the Herbology professor and Head of Gryffindor House.

A pang of regret rushed through Rose. They all seemed to get along so well, as if they really were one family. Even Albus, who was teased mercilessly by his brother James, was quite beloved by the other cousins. But she, Rose, was certainly an odd one out. She supposed it was her fault—she spent so much time studying that she probably missed out on getting to know her own cousins, but it wasn't as if any of them, save for Al, really made an effort with her, either. James especially had never gotten along with Rose, even when they were too young to fight about more than blankets and toy brooms.

She turned her attention to Slytherin. Not a single Potter, Weasley, or Longbottom was there, and though Albus had said his dad would be okay if he was the first, Rose hoped he didn't have to go through the inevitable awkwardness with the rest of their family if he did end up in that house. Rose shivered. She hoped she would be in Gryffindor, if only because it would make her mum and dad proud.

Rose snapped back to attention when Professor Flitwick called the name Malfoy, Scorpius. The boy next to Albus stiffened, then walked up to the stool. The Sorting Hat hesitated for perhaps a minute before announcing, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Rose and Albus clapped loudly for the boy, who looked absolutely stunned. They were some of the only ones to do so. Rose heard whispers around her, about how unusual it was for a Malfoy to be in Gryffindor. Even still, Victoire sent Scorpius Malfoy a kind smile and Suzie Longbottom, who'd been Sorted just five minutes before, made room for him next to her. Rose noticed how James scowled darkly at the younger boy and felt a frown form on her own face. Really, what right did he have to judge? If the Sorting Hat deemed Scorpius Malfoy worthy of Gryffindor, he couldn't be all bad, could he?

Mason, Ruby was made a Slytherin (the first Slytherin girl, in fact), Nightley, Neville became a Ravenclaw, and Patterson, Richard soon joined him. That had to mean—

"Potter, Albus."

"Good luck," Rose whispered brightly to her cousin. He gave her a weak grin and walked to the stool. The Hat touched on his head and Rose waited, holding her breath, until…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," Rose whispered to herself, grinning broadly as she clapped furiously for her best friend. Albus gave her an excited smile before rushing off to sit down at the table with most of his family. Rose saw James give him an affectionate thump on the back and had to hold back her giggles at Albus's pained wince. All of her cousins were roaring in excitement, standing up and cheering for Albus so hard he turned bright red and sank into a seat next to Scorpius Malfoy. He caught her eye, and despite his clear embarrassment, gave her two thumbs up.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and once the Hall settled down, continued reading. Slowly, the line dwindled until it was just Rose and three other first years left to be sorted.

"Trott, William!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Tyler, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Vance, Penelope!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Weasley, Rose!"

Rose took a deep breath and walked up. Her stomach was practically in her throat. She sat on the stool and waited for the Hat to fall over her eyes. Everyone looked bored—she was the last first year, and she figured everyone wanted to get on with the feast.

Rose Weasley, a voice said in her head.

Rose jumped the tiniest bit. She knew what to expect, of course, thanks to her family, but she still wasn't fully prepared for the sensation.

Well, look at you, the voice said in amusement. One of the youngest of your little clan, are you? You're quite like your father, you know.

_My… father?_ Rose thought.

Yes, yes, the Hat said impatiently, He wanted to impress his family too, as I recall. Suppose he must have succeeded, outshining them all.

_Typical,_ Rose thought bitterly. Even when Sorting her, all anyone could see was one of her parents.

I don't quite see Hufflepuff for you, to be frank. You're quite hardworking, but you have not the patience to truly belong there.

Rose figured that was a fair enough assessment.

You would do very well in Gryffindor, the Hat confessed. You're certainly strong enough, spirited enough, courageous enough for it. I don't see Ravenclaw in you, not the way I did in your mother. You're creative, yes, quite talented when it comes to your deepest passion—

_How did you—_

I see everything in your head, remember? The Hat said. I do believe that despite your creativity in your art, Ravenclaw is not the place for you.

_Fine,_ Rose grumbled in her head. _Then put me in Gryffindor, then._

The Sorting Hat hesitated. You would do quite excellently in Gryffindor, he said again, But I rather think another House would be more suited to you.

_What?_ Rose thought in alarm, heart beating much faster. _No, I have to be in Gryffindor, I have to! Albus said Uncle Harry asked to be in Gryffindor, right? Well, I'm doing the same thing!_

For the wrong reasons, the Hat argued. You want to prove yourself, you want to make your parents proud. You have such a deep thirst to please your family, such an intense desire to stave off any chance of disappointment, and that is why you want to be in Gryffindor. Really, though, those qualities make you best suited for—

"SLYTHERIN!"

Rose pulled the Hat off her head with a stifled cry of horror. Everyone in the Hall was staring at her, shocked that a Weasley would be put in Slytherin. Slowly, Rose's eyes met all of her family's. They all looked absolutely stunned.

Rose felt her eyes fill with tears as she numbly rose to her feet and walked to the Slytherin table. As she passed the Ravenclaw table, she caught Dom's and Molly's eyes. Dom mouthed, _Good luck,_ and Molly forced a smile on her face. Louis, at the Hufflepuff table, smiled brightly at her and winked. Rose sent him a wobbly smile she knew he must have seen straight through.

Finally at the Slytherin table, she hesitated. Even these students were staring at her wide-eyed, like they couldn't believe she really was Sorted there. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down next to an astonished Penelope Vance, who'd been Sorted just before her. She braved a look at the Gryffindor table.

Albus, at least, was smiling at her, just as proud and affectionate as he always was when she needed his support. Victoire looked surprised, but she too sent Rose a quick smile, as did Lucy next to her. Fred and Rox were shovelling food down their throats, seemingly unperturbed. And James—James was glaring at her with a look of utter disgust.

Rose felt her heart sink. There was no coming back from this. Her one wish for her years at Hogwarts, and it was dashed to the ground. She'd worked so hard in primary school to please her parents, and for what? She'd failed, ultimately. There was no way her mum or dad would ever be able to brag about her at family dinners again.

Because she knew that though they'd never admit it, her parents would be profoundly disappointed in her Sorting.

* * *

**hi there! i'm a friend of at least i didn't fake it, who is kindly letting me use her account to post my fanfiction (as i don't currently have an ff account). i'd love to get some feedback on this story, constructive criticism absolutely appreciated!**

**story title is a reference to great expectations. "that pip nonsense" is apparently what thomas carlyle thought. he basically believed great expectations was a load of crap, and rose's personality at this moment is built around what she believes others expect of her.**

**obviously, this is not cursed child compliant. i thought slytherin!rose would be a lot of fun, and wanted to try it out. also, a rose who isn't necessarily hermione smart but is super hardworking to get there.**

**hope you all enjoyed!**

**-b**


	3. Chapter Two: The Fallout

**Chapter Two: The Fallout**

_September 2017_

_Rose_

The next morning, Rose woke up, slightly disoriented, in a dark mahogany four poster bed. She sat up sharply as she remembered what had happened the night before. Her heart sank. It wasn't a dream, then—she'd really been placed in Slytherin.

It wasn't as though Rose herself was opposed to being in Slytherin, at least not after she calmed down enough to think properly. Actually, she loved the sound of water crashing against the windows in their dorm under the lake. It reminded her of her Uncle Bill's home on a cliff overlooking the sea. She'd exchanged scarcely five words with her two roommates Penelope Vance and Ruby Mason, but they seemed like nice enough girls. And she was reasoned enough to know that Slytherin House wasn't what it was when her parents were at school. Surely the students weren't obsessed with blood purity anymore, and if her Uncle Harry named Albus after a Slytherin like he claimed, he must hold deep respect for some of them.

Still, Rose knew quite well that the old prejudices were hard to erase. Even if she didn't much mind being in Slytherin, she dreaded to think what her parents must be feeling. Her mother was a Muggleborn, and Slytherin wasn't very welcoming to them in the nineties, when Hermione was a student. Her father was descended from a long line of Gryffindors, and he was pretty much the walking definition of lion pride. Everyone had expected Rose to be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and even she had been quite sure she would end up in Gryffindor.

She breathed out sharply, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. She'd have to write to them today. She'd have to tell them that she was a Slytherin. She was sure they already knew (James had a bad habit of butting into other peoples' business and Rose had no doubt he'd already written Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry with the news), but Rose wanted to tell her parents herself.

Slowly, she got up and dressed for the day, smiling hesitantly at Ruby and Penelope as they groaned and woke up.

"Morning, Weasley," Ruby yawned.

"Is it Weasley or Granger-Weasley?" Penelope asked curiously. Her shoulder length ebony hair puffed out from her hours of sleep and she grimaced at it, reaching for a brush.

"Granger-Weasley, legally," Rose said quietly, "But I thought Weasley would be better for school. There are more of us here for me to blend in with and I didn't want—" she cut herself off, swallowing thickly.

"You didn't want to be singled out as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley's daughter," Ruby finished knowingly, green eyes narrowed.

Rose felt her face warm. "Something like that," she mumbled. "Erm, what about you?" She said stupidly, trying to change the subject.

"Well, my name is just plain, straightforward Ruby Mason," Ruby said, mouth quirking up wryly. "No famous parents for me to hide from." She winked at Rose, and the ginger felt herself relax and let out a shy smile.

"Everyone calls me Poppy," Penelope said brightly, tying her now brushed hair into a high ponytail. "As for famous family, the only one I can think of is my dad's older sister, Emmaline Vance, who died years before I was born. She was part of the resistance movement." She shrugged modestly, though there was a gleam of pride in her eyes.

Rose remembered the name from countless war memorials she attended with her parents over the years. Emmaline Vance had been a part of the famous Order of the Phoenix, and she'd been killed by Death Eaters the summer before her parents' sixth year.

"Right, well, now that we've addressed family—" Ruby said, clapping her hands together.

"As I've heard is customary for Slytherins—" Poppy cut in jokingly.

"Yes, well, I'm starving!" Ruby said dramatically. "Can we head to breakfast, now, please?"

Rose smiled a little as the two other girls bickered playfully. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

Rose should have known better.

By the time the somewhat lost first years managed to find the Great Hall with the help of sixth year Preston Hooley, breakfast was well underway. She slipped into a seat in between Poppy and Pavo Zabini, another first year, and started scooping eggs on her plate in full Ron Weasley mode.

"Hey, Rose."

Rose looked up to see her cousin James standing in front of her, flanked by Fred and Roxanne, Uncle George's kids. James was smiling bracingly at her, which surprised her because he looked disgusted the night before with her Sorting. Still, Rose loved all her cousins and so smiled hesitantly back.

"What's going on, James?" She asked. James simply placed what Rose assumed was supposed to be a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Rosie," he said soothingly. "We'll fix this."

"Er…" Rose exchanged a confused look with Ruby across the table. "Fix what, exactly?"

"Your Sorting, of course," James said. He crouched down to give Rose a hug. It felt awkward—she didn't think James had voluntarily hugged her since she was six years old. He never really liked her too much, not compared to their other cousins. Rose felt her heart sink. James wanted to fix her Sorting? That meant he didn't accept her as she was—a Slytherin. Besides, how would he 'fix' this?

"My…" Rose glanced at Roxanne and Fred over James' shoulder. Rox was smiling comfortingly at her, but Fred looked slightly uncomfortable. "You two are in on this?"

"Well…" Fred started, but his sister cut him off.

"Gosh, Rose, of course we are! We'll take you after dinner today to McGonagall's office. There has to be something she can do!"

But Rose was already shaking her head. "No."

"What?" James said, pulling back quickly. He looked surprised.

"No." Rose surprised herself with how calm her voice was. James' eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Victoire materialized as if out of thin air. She must have sensed something was wrong by the way James, Fred, and Rox were surrounding Rose, because she'd brought Albus and her siblings along with her. Lucy and Molly, Uncle Percy's daughters, seemed to have decided they wanted to stay out of it and kept eating (or, in Molly's case, reading).

"What's going on here?" She asked sternly. "James, if you're yelling at Rose—"

"He's not," Roxanne said quickly. "He was just telling her that we'd help her fix her Sorting."

"Fix?" Albus asked, glancing at Rose in confusion. "What was wrong with it?"

Rose looked down at her plate as the rest of her family gave Al incredulous looks. Her ears burned with embarrassment. Trust the Weasleys to make a scene. Trust her cousins to make her feel less than because she was Sorted into a different House.

"James," Victoire said, and Rose started to relax. Her eldest cousin wouldn't stand for this nonsense, of course. She was saved. "That's actually not a half-bad idea."

Never mind.

Victoire turned to Rose, blue eyes softening as she took in the first year's scared expression. "Rosie, if you want to switch houses—"

"I said no." Rose said stubbornly.

Surprise flickered in Victoire's eyes. "Oh. Okay. Are you—"

"I'm sure."

If her response was short and a bit rude, it wasn't her fault. Rose turned back to her eggs, her eyes filling up with tears. Why did James have to open his big, fat mouth? Why did her family think so much less of her, all of a sudden? Was being a Slytherin really so wrong?

"Rose, you might want to reconsider," Roxanne urged. "A Weasley in Slytherin is just… unheard of."

"So is a Malfoy in Gryffindor," Albus argued, coming to Rose's defense like always. Rose felt a wave of fierce affection for her cousin. He alone was on her side. "And Scorpius is in my dorm, anyway. So what if Rose is in Slytherin? She's still our cousin."

"But—"

"But nothing, James," Albus said stubbornly. "Leave her alone."

James straightened up. Rose didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the breakfast she suddenly wasn't in the mood to eat, but if the expression on Ruby's face was any indication, he wasn't pleased in the slightest.

Rose heard multiple sets of footsteps receding and finally managed to glance up. Only Albus remained in front of her. He gave her a tiny smile. "They'll come around," he said in a low voice. "You were really brave, Rosie, telling them you weren't going to ask to be re-sorted."

"Is that even allowed?" Rose asked.

"It's never been done before," Pavo Zabini piped up.

"Yeah, but if they'd let anyone try again, it would be Rose Granger-Weasley, wouldn't it?" said Oliver Nott rhetorically from next to Joseph Ustridge. Rose felt her face burn as her peers looked at her.

"Merlin, I hope not," she muttered. "I'd never use my parents' names like that."

Albus winced in agreement. "Yeah, agreed." He smiled at Rose. "See you in Transfiguration."

"See you, Al." Rose mumbled.

He nodded politely to the other Slytherin first years and went back to his table, sitting next to Scorpius Malfoy, who looked over curiously at Rose. She met his grey eyes and held his gaze for a second. A wave of understanding seemed to pass between them—the Weasley in Slytherin, the Malfoy in Gryffindor.

"Hey, Weasley, stop daydreaming!"

Rose blinked as Brian Kromwith, another first year Slytherin, snapped his fingers in front of her eyes.

"Come on," Brian said. "We've got Potions first."

And so Rose Weasley got up from her House table and followed her classmates back towards the dungeons. And if she passed by her cousins without so much as making eye contact with any of them, let alone exchanging a greeting, that was their fault, not hers.

Because Rose Weasley was a Slytherin, now. Her family would just have to learn to accept that.

* * *

_Albus_

Albus sat back down next to Scorpius Malfoy with a huff of anger. The blond raised an aristocratic eyebrow in his direction.

"I see it went well, then," he drawled.

"Hardly," Albus muttered. "Honestly, they're this upset just because she's a Slytherin. For all that they claim to be accepting—"

"But don't you have other cousins that aren't in Gryffindor?" Scorpius asked. Albus hesitated, glancing at his new friend.

"Well—yes, but they're not—"

"In Slytherin," Scorpius realized. Albus saw him look over at Rose with sympathy in his eyes. If anyone could understand what his favorite cousin was going through, he thought, it must surely be Scorpius Malfoy.

And that's when Albus had his first brilliant idea.

He only had to wait two hours, after their first Herbology and History of Magic classes, to put his plan in action. The first year Gryffindors had Transfiguration next, with the Slytherins, and Albus was practically bouncing on his heels as he dragged Scorpius into the classroom.

The first year Slytherins were already inside, as was Professor Hawthorne, who took the job after McGonagall became Headmistress. He was a tall man with dark skin and bright, shining eyes, as if he was constantly amazed and excited about everything around him. His robes were a blinding canary yellow, and Albus remembered that he was also head of Hufflepuff House.

"Ah," Hawthorne said, smiling jovially as he noticed the Gryffindors. "Come in, come in. Three to a table, please, and I do hope you sit with someone who isn't in your house!"

Albus made a beeline for Rose, dragging Scorpius with him. His cousin looked up, blinked, and sent him a tiny smile.

"Hey, Al." She nodded politely to Scorpius. "Hello."

"Scorpius Malfoy," he introduced himself, holding his hand out for her to shake.

"You don't say," she said with a wry smile. "Rose Weasley."

"Albus Potter!" Al announced himself. The other two looked at him with amusement.

"Alright," said Professor Hawthorne, "I hope you've all introduced yourselves to each other. Now, let's get started."

Their first lesson for the day was to learn how to turn a matchstick into a needle. Al had heard from his dad that only his Aunt Hermione was able to produce a needle by the end of their first class at Hogwarts. He glanced at Rose, who seemed stressed. He felt a pang of sympathy for his cousin—he knew just how much her parents, and to an extent his own, expected from her. He alone knew her secret, that academics didn't come to her naturally like they did her mother, and that every grade she'd ever received had been the product of hard work and determination.

He hadn't been at all surprised when the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin. He was almost expecting it, actually, because he knew that his cousin was absolutely invested in proving herself to her parents, to make sure they knew she was worthy of their legacy. A little part of him had even hoped that they'd both end up in Slytherin, just so they'd have a kindred spirit there when it came time to write home and tell the family.

"Have you written home yet, Rose?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," she replied distractedly, inspecting her matchstick with narrowed eyes. "But I imagine they already know, given that your brother doesn't know when to shut his trap." She glanced up, and her eyes flitted to Scorpius. "Here's a tip for you, Albus is the best of all of us, except my little brother, Hugo. You can tell him any secret and he'll never spill. But beware, the other two Potters are huge gossips, and have a tendency to eavesdrop."

"Noted," Scorpius said, fine blond eyebrows raising with surprise.

"Oi, those are my siblings you're talking about!" Albus said, disgruntled.

"Oh, and that means it's not true?" Rose said challengingly.

Albus looked down, knowing she was right. "Yeah, okay."

The three first years looked back down at their matchsticks and resumed their attempts at transfiguring it. Towards the end of class, Al's matchstick was completely silver, and Scorpius' had a sharp point at the end. Hawthorne was so delighted that he awarded them each five points to Gryffindor. Barely five minutes later, he dismissed class.

Albus turned to Scorpius and Rose and grinned. Scorpius beamed back, but Rose's smile was forced and a bit wobbly.

"Bye, Al," she said quietly, her voice tired. "Nice meeting you, Scorpius."

With that, she rushed out of the classroom so quickly her hair flew back in a blur.

"Is she okay?" Scorpius asked, his eyes concerned. "Was it... was it something we did?"

"No," Al said, his brow furrowed. His heart began to sink. He'd hoped Hogwarts would be different from Muggle school, but this had always been a possibility. He looked back at their table, dreading what he saw.

And sure enough, Rose's matchstick hadn't changed one bit.

* * *

**omg it's been a long ass time.**

**hope everyone is staying safe! i'm absolutely grateful for all the brave people working in essential jobs, and i am thankful to them all for continuing to work - i do not take that care and kindness lightly, nor are we, as fellow humans, entitled to it. so a huge thank you to all those wonderful, kind people who, despite everything, are doing the rest of us a huge service right now.**

**-b**


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